


Your Eyes Only

by tuesday



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Adult Peter Parker, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Voyeurism, consensual voyeurism, overhearing masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2019-11-08 19:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17986814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: It was an accident.  Tony did not, as a rule, check up on Peter these days, and while he had kept the monitoring programs, they were there in case of emergency.





	Your Eyes Only

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LearnedFoot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearnedFoot/gifts).



> Set some slightly undefined time post IW with the assumption everything turns out okay and all attendant character death was temporary. Also, Pepper and Tony are not together in this. Thank you to Duckmoles for all your help!
> 
> Redating for author reveals. Sorry if anyone sees this twice! (And, uh, about suddenly having All the Fic at once; I wrote four fic for this exchange, plus posted two recently, plus one more that's coming soon.) This is not Endgame compliant, as it was written for an exchange with a due date prior to Endgame's release.
> 
> Content advisories in the end notes.

It was an accident. Tony did not, as a rule, check up on Peter these days, and while he had kept the monitoring programs, they were there in case of emergency. If Peter's heart rate increased above a certain point, if his vitals took a sudden dip, if he called for Tony, if any of a dozen things, FRIDAY would alert Tony, who could make a decision whether to take a closer look.

Mostly, he didn't need to. Peter was on patrol or he was messing around in the suit, bouncing off buildings and posing mid-air for tourists. It was easy to tell by context. The few times it was anything more serious, Peter had already told Karen to pass it on, checking in and asking for backup as needed.

This time, though, Peter hadn't called in and he was home. His heart rate was rapidly rising, not enough on its own, but the passive listening program had picked up Tony's name. The two combined had sent up a priority alert. Tony didn't think it through, concerned and convinced that somehow something was wrong, that Peter had grabbed the suit in some last ditch effort to get help. He barked for FRIDAY to bring up the feed from Peter's mask as he activated the armor. He froze at the image revealed even as the armor crept over him and hardened against his skin.

The most important thing to note was that Peter was okay. The moan that danced across Tony's ears had nothing to do with pain. The main camera feed didn't show any injuries, and a lot of Peter's body was on display for Tony to see that for himself. Peter was standing in front of his bedroom's full length mirror. The mask was on, but the rest of the suit was loose, pooled around his ankles. Tony noted distantly that it was an older one, not one of the nanotech suits Tony had made Peter—maybe even the first one. Peter had his left hand against his chest, alternately rubbing his palm across and pinching at his own nipples. The right, he had wrapped around his dick, jerking it frantically. Tony watched, mesmerized, as the head of his dick appeared and disappeared, a terrible tease.

"Please," Peter whimpered, hips working as he fucked his own fist. "Mr. Stark, please. I'll be so good for you."

Tony gave a whimper of his own.

Peter shoved his mask up over his mouth and sucked on his left first and middle fingers, the red of his lips closing obscenely around them. After a minute, he pulled them out and reached behind him. There was no mistaking it when he breached his ass. His whole body jerked.

"Oh," Peter said. He panted, open-mouthed. "Oh, fuck. That's." He shuddered. "It's so good."

Tony watched the play of Peter's muscles and the sheen of his skin for a moment more before he came to his senses. Voice hoarse, he said, "FRIDAY, shut it off."

FRIDAY did, but the images remained burned into Tony's brain.

 

* * *

 

What Tony needed to do was forget what he'd seen and everything he'd heard (a breathy "Mr. Stark" echoed in his memories at the most inconvenient times) and just—move on. It hadn't been meant for him and it didn't mean anything. Peter was a healthy eighteen year old with a healthy sex drive who just so happened to fantasize about Tony the once. It was perfectly normal.

What wasn't normal was the way it was affecting Tony. He needed to forget it, but instead, locked in the workshop, he pulled up the passive listening program, looking for more instances of his name.

He shouldn't—it wasn't _for_ him.

Tony pulled up one, audio only. Peter hadn't been wearing the mask, and he wasn't at home, so it was probably safe. He hit play.

"Sorry, but Mr. Stark needs me this weekend," Peter said.

"That internship sounds like a real drag, man," came an unfamiliar voice.

Tony could hear the smile in Peter's voice. "It's really not."

Tony hit stop. See, he told himself. Completely innocent.

Tony cued up the next one, still no video feed. It was at home, but surely— _surely_ —it was much the same.

"Please, Mr. Stark. I can take it." There was the sound of flesh striking flesh. Did Peter—did Peter just _spank_ himself? "I need you. _I need you_. Please. I can be good, I promise. Let me be good for you."

There was a ringing sound in Tony's ears. All his blood had rushed straight to his dick. Tony was in complete agreement. Peter could. Peter could be so good.

Tony, on the other hand, was a bad, bad man, because he listened to the audio the whole way through. When it was over, like waiting made him any better, any less of a terrible person, Tony stuck his hand down his pants and came in a few short pulls.

 

* * *

 

Tony knew himself. He knew he was in danger of this becoming a thing.

He couldn't remove the programs. Any time he contemplated it, he flinched away from the thought of not being there if Peter needed him, from the thought that if Peter hadn't come with him to Titan, he might have died alone, and Tony never would have known. Even now that Peter was back, Tony wasn't entirely rational when it came to him. He had the Baby Monitor protocol, and he had several more he'd collectively titled Proof of Life. He needed them, so there was only one thing to do.

He really, really didn't want to, but Tony called Peter and asked to see him at the Compound. He'd considered a number of different places to have this talk. His office was professional, impersonal, but it also felt too much like a principal calling in a naughty student when Tony was the one in the wrong here. He thought about the workshop, plenty of things for them to work on, and maybe they could concentrate on a project instead of the topic at hand, keep it casual. Then again, Tony didn't want to taint a place they both felt comfortable if this went wrong, and Tony didn't see any other way for it to go. He'd invaded Peter's privacy. He'd—he'd gotten off on Peter in a vulnerable moment no one else was ever meant to hear. And this conversation definitely shouldn't be had in the Compound's lobby where anyone could walk by and hear for themselves the ways in which Tony was a creepy asshole. If Peter wanted to tell them, fine, but it should be his decision.

By the time Peter showed up, dropped off in one of Tony's self-driving cars, Tony had decided on one of the smallest conference rooms. They never really used it. The only table was round, egalitarian. There were no real connotations or associations or personal histories connected with it.

"Hi, Tony," Peter said cheerfully, because he didn't know he had every right to be angry right now. "What's this about?"

Tony had channeled his nervous energy waiting on Peter into making up a tray of refreshments, doing his best Jarvis impression. There was a pitcher of ice water, a carafe of coffee, and even a little pot of tea. He'd shoved some packages of cookies and crackers on there, too. Tony poured himself some of the coffee, because it might be nearly six o'clock, but every hour was coffee hour.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked.

Tony's smile was more of a grimace, and he covered it with a sip of coffee. "I'm fine, kid. But there's something we need to talk about. Did you want anything to drink?" He nodded at his makeshift tea tray. "If there's something else you'd like, we could move this party to the kitchen for a minute."

Peter shook his head. "I'm good, thanks."

 _You're very good_ , Tony thought, then took another gulp of his coffee to swallow the words down unspoken.

"Is this—did I do something wrong?"

"No," Tony said firmly. "But there's something you should know that I think I was not clear enough about. Something, um." Tony heaved a sigh and just said it. "Kid, you know I have monitoring programs on you, right?"

"Yeah, Karen runs them," Peter said.

Tony rubbed at his eyes. "And you know they don't—they don't just shut off?"

Voice fainter now, Peter said, "Mr. Stark, what's this about?"

"This is me letting you know that they've caught you in several vulnerable moments." Tony cleared his throat. "Very vulnerable, intimate moments." He drummed his fingers on the table. Peter was already staring at him with blank horror, but Tony clarified, "Masturbating. They caught you masturbating."

"Are you telling me," Peter asked, voice gone high with stress, "that I've been sexually harassing Karen?"

Tony blinked. "Uh, no. That's not what I'm saying. She's an AI. She doesn't care any more than FRIDAY does. I'm telling you that _I_ checked them."

Oh, good, so nice to see Peter could look even more horrified. In a whisper, "I've been sexually harassing _you_?"

Awkwardly, Tony said, "That is not the direction I'd have drawn that line."

"I'm so sorry," Peter said.

"You're not the one who needs to apologize here." Tony had a tablet next to the tray of refreshments. He nudged it over. "Look, that will give you full access to everything that's been picked up so far, your entire history. You can delete whatever you'd like, you can set it up to institute blackouts, and you can even tell it to automatically stop and start recording and transmitting with key words and phrases."

Peter picked up the tablet. In any other circumstance, Tony thought he'd have been excited at the new tech. Peter tapped at the screen a couple times. He looked absolutely miserable as he said, "I thought Karen had moved over into the newest suit."

"She switches between when you do and she only manages the programs. They're active either way." Tony could see the moment Peter noticed that it kept track of what had been reviewed, the clear proof that Tony had watched part of the accompanying video to yesterday's data. Only the once, only partway, because Tony had told FRIDAY to lock it to Peter. Voice gentle, Tony said, "This was a terrible invasion of your privacy, and I'm sorry."

Peter was ashen-faced. He said, "Did you hear—?"

"I didn't take it personally," Tony offered. He wanted to—oh, he wanted to—but even with the other times it had happened, the fact remained that it wasn't about him. "It's a perfectly normal—"

Peter held up a hand, and Tony shut up. "Please don't try to make me feel better about this."

"Okay." But then, because Tony could not help himself, "But for the record, I don't mind any more than Karen does. Less, actually. The opposite of it."

Peter looked up from the tablet. "What does that mean?"

"It means I'm flattered."

"You're flattered," Peter said flatly.

Tony spread his hands. "It's been a while since I've been voted People's Sexiest Man Alive. It's nice to know I've still got it."

Peter's lips pressed together. "So you think this is, what, I didn't have access to porn, so I thought of you?"

Tony had been trying really hard not to think about it at all, actually.

Peter put the tablet down. "If it's so flattering, it doesn't matter, does it?" He stood. "Was that all?"

"That was it, but—"

"Good. I've got stuff to do." Peter went for the door.

"You're forgetting the tablet," Tony said.

Peter shook his head as he wrenched the door open. "I don't care if you see it." He scoffed, an angry, bitter sound. "I mean, it's flattering, right?"

Tony was left with the tablet, the tea tray, and the sense that he'd fucked that up in an entirely different way than he'd anticipated. It was nice to know he could still surprise himself.

 

* * *

 

Not ten minutes later, Tony got another alert. Peter was still in the Compound.

"FRIDAY," Tony said. "Is Peter in imminent mortal peril?"

"No," FRIDAY said. "He's currently in his room."

Tony shouldn't look. Peter was fine. He really, really shouldn't look.

Peter had given him permission to look.

"Fullscreen it," Tony said.

Peter had set up the mask at the foot of the bed he usually only used on weekends. He had on the gloves, which had tracked and flagged his bpm, but otherwise was naked. He was staring straight at the camera. His legs were spread. Tony hadn't needed to know he kept lube in his room at the Compound, but the fact was readily apparent, his gloves covered in it. He was circling the rim of his ass with one finger. His other hand was idly stroking his dick. Peter's eyes were half-lidded.

"Are you watching?" he asked. "Do you, do you want to know what I'm thinking about?"

Peter slid his finger in slowly, and Tony watched it disappear intently, hungrily, already picturing his own hand there instead.

"I, oh, I think about you, Mr. Stark. It's always you." Peter slid his finger back out, only to add a second one. "It's better than any porn, than any other fantasy. The thought that you might touch me like this."

Peter was flushed, his cheeks red, the tips of his ears, extending down to his chest. He didn't look like he was in a hurry, right hand moving off his dick to touch his balls.

"Would you be gentle?" Peter stroked softly. He suddenly tugged, hard, and gasped with it. "Or would you be rough, make sure I could feel it?"

"Whatever you wanted," Tony promised, mouth dry, as Peter moved his hand back to his dick. "FRIDAY, send it to my glasses."

Peter was fucking himself with his fingers in earnest now, and Tony watched, shoulder clipping the doorway, as Peter found his own prostate, hips stuttering. "Would you—would you fuck me slow, sweet? I could, oh, I could be so sweet for you, Mr. Stark."

Tony believed him. Tony was, in fact, hoping to see how sweet Peter could be. He was cursing whoever had decided to put Peter's bedroom on the other side of the Compound.

"I, ah, I'm not—it's not—it's not flattering, how much I want this." Peter closed his eyes, bit his lip. "Or it, it shouldn't be. It's. It's pathetic, how much I still—"

Tony picked up his pace, half jogging through the hall.

Peter shoved in a third finger. "Please. Please, I need, I need you. I need so much. I just want—" He shook his head. His legs spread incrementally. He gave a small sob. "Please."

Tony struggled with the doorknob to Peter's door. He hadn't locked it, and Tony barged in, the image of Peter layered over Peter lying in the bed. Tony ripped off his glasses. His voice was wrecked as he said, trying to fit in everything he felt in one word: " _Peter_."

Peter looked over. His voice was wrecked, too, as he said, "Is this flattering enough for you?"

Tony crossed to the bed, slamming the door behind him, as he said, "Tell me I can take this personally."

Peter reached for him, and Tony crawled into the bed, crowding Peter's space, letting himself be drawn into a frantic kiss. Peter's body trembled beneath his own. His mouth opened up for Tony. Tony ran his hands across Peter's chest, his shoulders, burying one hand in his soft hair while the other reached lower to replace where Peter's hand had been on his dick. It was slick from the lube, but Peter was also leaking pre-come, and he thrust up into Tony's grip.

"Please take it personally," Peter said when Tony had separated their mouths in order to press kisses to Peter's jaw, to his neck, to his shoulders. He licked at the tendon of Peter's neck, then nibbled at his ear. "I want—I want you to take it personally."

"I will." Tony undid his pants, all urgency and need. "I do." Peter's mouth had been sweet, but sweeter still was the instant Tony got his underwear down and was able to feel Peter's skin against his own. "I'll take it as personally as you want me to."

Peter drew off his gloves and threw them aside. He put his bare hands all over Tony's body, touching everywhere he could reach. Tony did some more touching of his own.

"Can I—?" Tony asked, and Peter said, "Anything."

Tony pressed his fingers against Peter's asshole, just to feel it, but they slid right in. Tony could feel the muscle flutter around his knuckles, and Peter groaned. Tony said, "Tell me you have condoms somewhere."

"In the, in the drawer." Peter pointed at the bedside table, and Tony reluctantly withdrew his fingers so he could lean over and rummage through. His fingers kept slipping on the wrapper of the one he withdrew, and he gave up, ripping it open with his teeth. Peter watched with wide eyes as Tony put it on, then shoved the bottle of lube into his hands. Tony slicked himself up, and Peter drew his knees up, hands on Tony's shoulders to pull him close. Tony lined himself up as Peter said, "Please, _please_."

Tony would like to be able to say that he went slow, that he eased his way in and checked in with Peter with every inch, every centimeter he pushed in, that he made absolutely sure Peter was comfortable.

Tony had a shirt on. His pants were around his knees. He was still wearing shoes. Tony didn't wait, didn't go slow. Peter was begging for it, and Tony gave it to him, sheathing himself in Peter's welcoming warmth in one sharp thrust. Peter sobbed and clutched at Tony's shirt. There was the sound of cotton tearing, and Tony didn't care. He'd let Peter destroy entire wardrobes for this.

"Yes," Peter said as Tony thrust again. "Like that. Just like that."

It wasn't gentle. Peter dug bruises with his fingers into Tony's back. Tony was going too hard, too fast, unable to find and keep a rhythm, face buried in Peter's shoulder and blindly seeking his own pleasure. He wanted it to be better, kinder, sweeter, to convey all the things he felt for Peter, that he wanted for him, but any time he tried to slow down, Peter just urged him on.

"Harder," Peter said. "Make me feel it."

Tony tried, mildly concerned he was going to pull something, but unable to stop. The best he could do was make it good for Peter, too, finding an angle that worked for him, that resulted in the loudest gasps and the most delicious noises, and sticking with it. It did the job, because a few minutes in Peter cried out even louder and came, dick twitching between their bodies as he shot off so hard he got semen all the way up to his chin.

He went limp, and Tony—Tony still couldn't stop. All he could do was tell Peter, "That's it. You're so good for me." Peter shuddered again. "You're so good. You feel so good." Tony mouthed at Peter's shoulder. His hips stuttered. He was so close. "You're always so good."

"Mr. Stark." Peter sounded ruined. "Mr. Stark, I—"

Tony bit down as he came. Whatever Peter wanted to say, it was cut off in another moan. Tony collapsed on him, exhausted and emptied out. Tony didn't say anything, and neither did Peter. Tony turned his face back into Peter's shoulder and pressed an apologetic kiss to the teeth marks he'd left there. Peter's hand crept into Tony's hair, petting a little. Tony closed his eyes as he closed his arms around Peter. In a minute, he'd get up, clean up a little. In a minute, they'd talk about this.

In a minute.

For now, Tony tried to capture every second of the afterglow in his memory to replay at his leisure, to soak in every drop of contentedness radiating through his body. "I'm not crushing you, am I?"

"I'm not that fragile." Peter said that, but he sounded fragile. Tony wanted nothing more than to reassure him.

Tony kissed Peter's shoulder again, his throat, anywhere he could reach that wouldn't require him to move. Peter shifted, bringing to Tony's attention two disparate, but important facts: Peter was in desperate need of clean-up—more so even than Tony, who hadn't bothered to take off the condom—and Peter was getting hard again, erection jabbing Tony in the stomach. Tony made himself sit up, shrugging off his shredded shirt.

"I'm really sorry about your shirt," Peter said, going a pleasing pink as he saw the rags it had been reduced to.

"This old thing? Don't worry about it." It was what someone else might call vintage, an AC/DC tee Tony had gotten in his twenties. Tony had loved this shirt, but he loved getting to use it to clean the come off of Peter's abs more. "I'm thinking about having it framed, actually."

Tony got the condom off and dropped it in Peter's trash can. The shirt, he dropped on Peter's desk after wiping himself down, too. He pulled up his pants, because it felt like too much effort to get undressed. Peter was watching Tony, half hard, but not making any move to push that further. That was fine; Tony was happy to take care of it for him.

Tony wasn't a young man anymore, so he grabbed a pillow and dropped it to the floor, then followed it down, stomach pressed against the edge of the mattress as he knelt there. "Come here. Thighs on my shoulders."

"You—what are you doing?" Peter asked.

Tony grinned. "Giving you a blowjob, if you're up for it."

Turned out, Peter was, scooting over quickly like he was worried Tony was about to change his mind. He got his thighs up, and Tony bent over. He didn't try anything fancy, knew he'd be drowsing on the bed without the impetus to take care of Peter. He licked at the head to start, wrapping his left hand around the base as he pressed sloppy kisses to Peter's dick. Tony was never too tired to multitask, and he used his right to slide three fingers back in Peter, wet and open and welcoming him, like Peter's body knew Tony always belonged inside.

Peter supported his weight with his left arm, stretched behind him to keep from tipping back. He had his right hand threaded through Tony's hair, not tugging, not pushing, just resting there. Tony could see his Adam's apple work as he swallowed before he said, voice hushed, "You look really good there."

"View's pretty good from this angle, too." Then Tony couldn't talk anymore, his mouth full all the way to his throat.

Peter also seemed to be having trouble, the sounds spilling from him almost entirely unintelligible. He gasped. He moaned. He whined. He said, "You," and, "I can't," and, "That's so," and, "Please, please, please."

Tony was very pleased. Peter was incredibly responsive to whatever Tony threw at him. Tony hummed and licked and swallowed; he rubbed at Peter's prostate until he was spilling down Tony's throat in seemingly never-ending pulses. There was a thud from the bed as Peter collapsed back against it. Tony kissed Peter's thigh and asked, "How was that?"

"Nnngh," Peter said.

Tony patted at Peter's thighs before easing them down. Tony's back creaked as he stood. He felt old; he felt energized. At some point, he'd caught a second wind. He stood and toed off his shoes. Peter was spread out on the bed, unselfconscious as he stared up at Tony with sleepy eyes.

"Anything verboten for pillow talk?" Tony asked as he got back in bed, pushing and tugging at Peter until he was all the way on the bed, too, his head on Tony's chest, his body held in Tony's arms. "Because you seem pretty out of it, but I'd like to discuss where this is going."

"It doesn't have to mean anything," Peter said quietly.

"It doesn't," Tony agreed, petting Peter's hair. "But I want it to."

"Me, too." Peter pressed his cheek against Tony's sternum, right where the front casing for the arc reactor used to be. "I really, really want it to."

"Good." Tony kissed Peter's forehead. "We can discuss how much I'm allowed to invade your privacy later."

"Is it an invasion of privacy when I ask for it?" Peter said.

"Is that permission to be creepy?"

"You were already kind of creepy."

"Thanks," Tony said dryly.

Peter nuzzled Tony's chest. "You call in literally every time my pulse jumps on patrol."

"Not every time. I usually check the video feed first."

"I'm not telling you to stop." Peter kissed the scars the arc reactor and shrapnel had left behind.

Tony sighed. "You shouldn't be encouraging me to indulge in acting like a controlling asshole."

"You're not controlling. You're just a paranoid mess who hasn't gotten over that time I died." This was the worst pillow talk. "If you're that worried about it, I'll take the tablet."

 

* * *

 

And he did. Peter took the tablet—but he didn't use it.

 

* * *

 

Tony ended up being the one to tweak the system. Mostly because Peter had found a flaw that he kept exploiting mercilessly. Tony was in a meeting when he got an alert, but it was flagged "your eyes only" instead of indicating any real danger.

"Excuse me, I have to take this," Tony said pleasantly.

He waited until he was locked in his private office to pull up the feed, though the program pulling Peter's vitals had gone inactive. By that point, Peter was naked, flushed, and very, very hard, leaking all over his hand and using it as lubricant as he jerked at his dick. Peter was biting his lip, eyes closed, and Tony wanted to reach through the screen and kiss him.

Tony activated the suit's external speakers. "Having fun?"

Peter opened his eyes. His smile lit his face. "Definitely."

"Would you like to have more?"

"Always."

Tony checked his watch. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Twenty at the most. Don't finish without me."

Tony had once climbed out a window to escape a board meeting. He felt no compunctions about doing so now, though it was less running away and more running toward. While Peter had thoughtfully ensured Tony would have a complete video of the entire experience, Tony would rather see it firsthand and he was a big fan of audience participation.

Peter was waiting. Tony made sure he wouldn't wait too long.

**Author's Note:**

> Content advisories: Age gap. Voyeurism, including brief accidental and non-consensual voyeurism. References to events from IW. Surveillance of a character with their permission, but which includes more than they initially realized. Please feel free to ask if you have any questions or special concerns.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Your Eyes Only](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18761647) by [Cvetok1105](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cvetok1105/pseuds/Cvetok1105)




End file.
